


Marie French's Return

by imagineagreatadventure



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 03:28:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagineagreatadventure/pseuds/imagineagreatadventure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Gold saves Marie French and the chips fall into place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> “I-“ she broke away from his gaze. It was one of the only times he had seen her uncomfortable, “Why did you save me?”
> 
> The question startled him but he recovered with a smile, “What do you mean dearie?”
> 
> She looked back up into his eyes, “You knew me before right? What was our relationship? Were we friends?”
> 
> The answer flew out of his mouth, “Yes. The very best of friends.”

Marie French was older than she looked.

She was 29, almost 30 according to her birth certificate (a birth certificate that somehow managed to become the front page of The Mirror). She was petite, didn’t have too many wrinkles and her smile was wide. She could probably even pass for a new college graduate.

But she was still much older than all of that.

She would be turning 58 years old if the calculations in his head were correct. 

28 years.

Gone.

Although it was probably more like 30 years without her presence. 30 years without Belle. Why did he let himself go so long without her?

“Mr. Gold,” the woman who freed Marie prodded him with a pen, “If you would sign here?”

He bared his teeth at Emma. She smiled back, “C’mon now Mr. Gold, play nice.”

“It’s hard to play nice when I’m being bailed out of jail by someone whose first name happens to be a month.”

He jerked his head over at August who waved mockingly.

Emma, who obviously had a crush on the man, had the audacity to giggle.

He glared at her.

She handed over the clipboard with an amused smirk.

He initial R. Gold without a thought.

“Well, can I go now?” he barked

Sheriff Swan raised an eyebrow before un-cuffing him, “You’re free to go Mr. Gold.”

He jostled past the two with a scowl, grabbing his cane on the way out.

He even slammed the door for good measure.

When he left Emma glanced over at August, “What, no thank you?”

August shrugged, “That’s Mr. Gold for you.”

“I guess.”

“Don’t worry. He just wants to make sure she’s safe and sound.”

Emma crossed her arms over her chest, “The woman who was being unlawfully locked in the asylum? The one he barreled into the hospital with a loaded gun to get out? That woman? Marie French?”

August quirked his lip, “Yeah, her.”

Emma recalled a beating not so long ago of a certain Mr. French. Was this girl the cause of it all?

“So what’s the story there?”

August’s smile grew wider, “I think you should ask Henry that question, although you might not like the answer.”

Emma shook her blonde curls.

What a typical answer.

~

“So, kid, what’s the deal with the girl’s Aussie accent?” Emma nodded her head in the direction of the newest member of Storybrooke.

She was sitting on a stool with her father next to her. He looked like he was trying to help her pick out something on the menu, but the girl kept making faces, so Emma assumed it wasn’t going very well.

Henry smiled at his mom, “Well it’s not really an Australian accent!”

Emma’s eyes softened, “What is it then?”

“It’s probably from some other country in fairy tale land.” Henry’s hands cupped his hot chocolate.

“Have you figured out what story she’s from yet?”

Henry took a sip. His upper lip was covered in whipped cream and cinnamon when he started to speak again, “I don’t know if you’re going to like my answer.”

Emma rolled her eyes, “August said the same thing.”

Henry perked up in his seat. “Did he?” he asked with an eager grin before it dropped completely, “Wait, when did he join Operation Cobra?”

The question startled Emma, “I, uh, I’m actually not really sure.” She matched Henry’s frown, “He didn’t really mention Operation Cobra… he just said you would know.”

“Huh.”

Emma examined her son. He didn’t look nearly as perturbed by this as she did, as he launched into an explanation about where Miss French came from, and who she was in fairy tale world.

“I think she’s probably a princess. I thought she might be Rapunzel since- y’know, she was locked away, but she didn’t really fit what I thought Rapunzel would be like-“

“And a kickas-butt Snow White does?” Emma gave him a pointed look as she gulped down her hot chocolate.

He made a face, “Well yeah.”

She almost choked as he continued, “Snow White had to live in the woods and off the land and stuff. It makes sense.”

“Sure it does kid.”

“Anyways, I think she’s Belle.”

“Belle from Beauty and the Beast… with the talking candelabra?” Emma smirked, “So where’s Lumiere?”

Henry gave her a pointed look. She smiled cheekily back at him.

“He’s not in the book. But Belle is and so is the Beast! There’s not too much in there about them though. There’s only a small reference to them because the Queen hates the Beast. It’s like they’re rivals or something.”

Emma resisted a snarky comment and gave a weak smile instead, “Rivals huh?”

“Yeah. But I think that’s because the Beast is Rumplestiltskin.”

“What?”

“Yeah, in the book, they’re the same person.”

Emma’s forehead creased. She was getting a headache, “But how is that possible. They’re two different characters…”

“Not in the book,” Henry said. He shook his head dismissively, “Forget the other versions, this is the real version.”

“So who is Rumplestiltskin then?”

Henry peeked at Marie French, “I don’t know yet.”

~

Emma hopped out of her Bug. She wasn’t looking forward to this visit but she knew she would have to do it eventually.

The French’s home was small. It was a single story ranch style home. It was generally really plain and boring with its cream shutters. The only thing of interest was the giant Sycamore tree looming over the house with a tire swing on it.

The tire was dangling off the rope; Emma was half-tempted to kick it just so it would die. However, she was the Sheriff and she should be behaving better than that.

But her foot still itched.

She forced herself to face the house again. She really didn’t want to do this.

But it was her job as Madame Mayor so nicely reminded her when she tore Henry away at Granny’s Diner this afternoon.

Emma was just grateful that Miss French had left before the Mayor got there.

“Sheriff Swan, I would have you know that you should be interrogating that young woman. She’s been held unlawfully for years, and a citizen had to go undercover to steal her? For shame, Sheriff. How did you not find out about this first?”

Emma had wanted to say that she had only been Sheriff for a few months and Graham was the one who should’ve realized it, but as soon as she thought of him, the thought died.

So here she was. Asking a woman who had been locked away for who knows how many years if she could even remember anything.

Maybe she could find out how the hell Mr. Gold fit into this mess.

“Hello? Are you alright there Sheriff?” a gruff voice broke into her reverie.

“Oh yeah. Sorry to bother you Mr. French.”

“It’s no problem Sheriff. I’m assuming you want to talk to Marie.”

Emma nodded, relieved that she didn’t have to ask, “If that’d be alright?”

He held the door open for her, “Please, come in.”

The door opened up to a small entryway. There were no pictures of Marie as a little girl, no family portraits, just dark wooden walls.

“Where is Marie?” she asked Mr. French. He pointed towards the end of the hall.

“She’s in the kitchen,. She’s attempting to make brownies.” His voice softened, “She loved brownies when she was a kid.”

He limped into the kitchen, still suffering from the wounds Mr. Gold inflicted a month or so back Emma noted.

He seemed like he loved his daughter. And when she interrogated him that awful night when Marie was discovered, he didn’t lie. He knew nothing about her imprisonment.

That was the only reason she’d let Marie go with him. That and the poor girl looked so happy to see her father.

“Marie, Sheriff Swan would like to ask you a few questions.”

Marie looked up at Emma and smiled. Her smile was soft and kind, Emma thanked God that whoever did this to her didn’t kill her spirit completely. She already looked better than she had a few days before.

“Hello,” she said as she licked a spoon full of the dark brownie batter.

“Is it alright if I, uh, ask you some questions about your time there?”

When Marie didn’t answer immediately, Emma broke into her prepared speech, “If you want I can ask Archie, I mean, Dr. Hopper to mediate between us. He’s going to want to meet you anyways-“

“I’m fine with answering your questions Sheriff.” Marie’s voice was quieter than it had been greeting Emma, but it was still strong.

She really hadn’t broken.

Emma couldn’t believe it. She’d be broken. Hell, she was broken. But this girl wasn’t.

How the hell did she pull that off?

Henry’s voice ticked the back of her mind, the same way she tamed a beast. She ignored it.

“Miss French-“ she began but Marie interrupted her.

“Please don’t call me that,” the girl swallowed, her blue eyes watering.

So maybe she was a bit damaged. But she definitely put up a fight.

“They called me that there. Miss French. Or ‘The Patient’” Marie giggled awkwardly, spinning the spoon in her hand around and around. Emma watched her transfixed at the sight.

“The Patient?” Emma asked. What the hell did that mean?

“I know, it’s so silly, I couldn’t have been the only patient there,” Marie looked into Emma’s eyes, “I couldn’t have right?

Emma scanned the other girl’s face, “We looked around, there were a few other people there, but we’re not sure who they are yet.”

Marie’s jaw jutted out and a frown lined her eyes, “But, if that’s true, why would they call me ‘the’, emphasis on the the, patient?”

Emma shrugged, helpless, “I don’t know. Do you have any idea who did this to you?”

Marie put down the spoon she had been twirling. “I remember-“ she hesitated.

“Remember what?” Emma prodded.

Marie swallowed, her eyes bright, “There was a woman once. A woman other than the nurse you arrested. She had dark eyes… and a dark soul.”

“A dark soul?” Immediately Emma thought of Regina and her cruel smirks but brushed the thought away. “When did you see this woman? How many times?”

“Once. A few months ago. Once was enough. I felt like I remembered her though… as if from another life…” Marie ended her thought with a troubled look on her face.

“Maybe you upset this woman? Maybe she’s the reason you were imprisoned there?”

Marie’s mouth twisted as if she were sucking on a sour lemon, “Maybe.”

“I guess I should line up all the brown eyed women in Storybrooke huh?” Emma said.

Marie smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes, “I suppose so!”

Emma bit the inside of her lip. Now for the question she really didn’t want to ask.

“So about Mr. Gold…”

“Who?” Marie questioned.

Emma stopped and stared at her. Marie was the image of innocence and Emma realized that she was not lying. She had no idea who Mr. Gold was.

Her mouth felt dry, “Uh he’s the man who saved you.”

“The one who smelled like leather?

“Well, I don’t really tend to sniff him but yes, I guess? He has a cane, dark hair, brown eyes, five foot eight inches tall…”

Marie looked down at her hands. “I don’t really remember much of the escape,” she confessed, “I remember the smell of leather, someone picking me up and the rush of sound and noise. It.. It was a lot to take in, you see.”

Emma nodded. God, maybe Archie should’ve come with her. She had no idea how to handle this situation.

“Um, are you comfortable living with your father?”

Marie’s head popped back up and she brightened the room with her smile, “Oh yes, it’s so nice to be back with papa… I mean dad.” Her hands turned into fists and the smile dimmed.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. I keep saying things that feel right but I know are wrong. Or are right but they feel wrong. I’m… I’m all mixed up.”

Emma gave her what she hoped was a sympathetic smile, “Dr. Hopper will be able to help with that.”

Marie bit her lip.

“I hope so.”

~

“Mr. French, I’d like to have a word,” Mr. Gold limped into Game of Thorns shop with a grim smile on his face.

Moe French winced. His ribs still weren’t 100 percent after Mr. Gold’s attack a few months back. He sometimes wished he pressed charges on the man, but it was hard to stand up to a man like Mr. Gold.

And Mr. Gold had given the truck back so that helped a bit. Well, more than a bit. It had helped a great deal.

But that didn’t mean he wanted to be around the man ever again.

“What is it Mr. Gold?” he asked politely as possible.

Mr. Gold plucked out a rose from the basket and twirled it.

“I believe we had a deal, you, me, and your daughter some time ago.”

Moe’s mouth dropped. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You-you” he spluttered.

“Yes, me, Mr. French.” Mr. Gold gently placed the rose on the counter in front of Mr. French and leaned in.

“Now that your daughter has found to be alive and well, and not dead and buried like we both presumed, I would like her back working in my shop just as she did before.”

“But she doesn’t even remember you,” Moe half-shouted.

Mr. Gold’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, “Be that as it may,” Mr. Gold swallowed, “She is still under contract. And you know I don’t break contracts.”

“But she’s sick,” Moe protested.

“If she’s under my contract, she gets free healthcare, which means free trips to the otherwise very expensive psychiatrist,” Mr. Gold hissed.

Moe knew he had lost then so he said nothing.

Mr. Gold smiled, “Glad we still have our deal. Now, in other business I would like to buy this rose.”

“Just one?”

“Just the one.”

~

Be-no Marie French, looked out her window and sighed.

She felt like she was sixteen years old again forced to stay inside while there was a ball-a dance, she corrected herself mentally, happening outside.

Nothing interesting was inside the plaster walls of her home. There weren’t even very many books around, which felt strange to her. She remembered books from everywhere before, books piled by her bedside, by her closet, by her window, in the dungeon. She shook herself, no that wasn’t right at all.

There weren’t any books by her window now.

She sighed again. She missed the years before her imprisonment, or at least what she remembered of those years. Although she wasn’t even sure if what she remembered was right, she had asked her father about a boy named Gaston the night she came home and he just stared at her.

She stopped asking him questions then.

“Marie, I need you to come here,” her papa’s voice carried into her bedroom.

She thought it again. Papa. Who says papa?

“Coming Dad!” she shouted. She quickly changed out her pajamas and into a blue sundress.

That was one thing she remembered distinctly. She loved the color blue. While everything else was fuzzy or tinged with daydreams and nightmares, the color blue was consistent.

She ran her hands through her hair as a way of brushing it, even though she knew that wasn’t right, but brushes hurt her head since it hadn’t been brushed in years. She looked at herself in the mirror and made a face. Her curls were everywhere.

“Marie,” her dad called out again.

“Sorry, one second!” she yelled as she slipped on some black flats and ran out the door.

She stopped short as she noticed her father wasn’t alone. There was another man here.

“Oh hello,” she stuttered. She still didn’t like seeing strangers. She clasped her hands together and tried to resist the urge to run screaming back into her room and lock the door.

“Marie, this is Dr. Hopper,”

The tall man walked over to her and offered her his hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She looked up. He had soft eyes and a kind smile. She wanted to trust him. She wasn’t sure if she could.

She shook his hand, “Thank you.”

“I wanted to know if you would like to attend some sessions with me soon.”

Sessions, those were the things that were supposed to fix her. The blonde Sheriff and her father had both said that a few times.

She didn’t want to be damaged goods anymore.

“I think that might be a good idea.”

Dr. Hopper grinned, “I’m glad you think so.” He turned to her dad, “Well, since we have a willing patient we can settle the money later.”

“Um, actually,” Moe spoke, “Mr. Gold is paying for it.”

“What?” Dr. Hopper’s whole demeanor changed, “Why are you letting him do that? Actually, a better question is why is he doing that?”

“We, uh, have a little deal,” her dad shifted his weight between his legs. Marie knew this wasn’t good.

“What do you mean a deal?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Well, I don’t think you remember this part sweetie, but before your uh, time in the hospital, you worked for Mr. Gold for about a year and a half. But right after that is when you took off and we all got the letter that said you were dead.”

She was still for a moment, “I don’t understand. I worked for this Mr. Gold… a man I can’t even remember. The man who saved me from the asylum… a man who I ran away from?”

“We don’t know why you took off. Do you remember?”

Marie was irritated, “No, how could I remember that. I don’t even remember who this bloody Mr. Gold fellow is!”

Dr. Hopper looked extremely uncomfortable in between the two Frenches, “Marie, could you call me to schedule a meeting when you have the time?”

Marie shook herself out of her anger and turned back to Dr. Hopper, “Um, yes?”

Dr. Hopper broke into a smile, “Good, I’ll see you soon then.” He firmly shook her father’s hand and then her own again before scuttling to the door.

For a psychiatrist he seemed very uncomfortable dealing with confrontation, Marie noted.

As soon as she left, Marie turned towards her father. She felt full of anger, something she hadn’t been full of for a very long time.

“Why haven’t I met this Mr. Gold yet? He saved my life after all.”

Her dad attempted to avoid her gaze, “Well, he was in jail for breaking and entering the hospital, although Emma made sure the charges were dropped. But it’s not only that sweetheart, he’s… he’s a complicated man that Mr. Gold.”

“Should I really be working for such a complicated person when I’m all torn up inside?” Marie’s voice cracked and for a second she thought her father was going to hug her like he used to. Instead he stood there, staring at the floor.

The room was silent as each French mulled their options

“Fine. I’ll work for him. I know we can’t afford my treatment otherwise. And… and maybe this will be good for me. Maybe it will help me separate reality from my dreams,” she said, a whisper of a smile on her face.

Her father caught her eye and sighed. She knew he thought she was brave for facing off this fearsome Mr. Gold, but she felt like a coward.

“Maybe.”

~

Rumplestiltskin felt like cackling.

Or giggling.

Belle was alive.

Belle was going to be with him again.

He made a deal with her father just as he had done so many years ago.

He had never been so happy to be a dealmaker.

She’d hate him probably. He’d have to make her hate him. He couldn’t afford to have her love him.

He was just glad the Evil Queen’s hands were tied. She wouldn’t do anything now that Emma was looking into the asylum situation.

He knew with just a few words he could tear down the Queen once and for all. She knew it too.

Which is why she didn’t dare touch Belle again.

He was already tempted on ending her existence; he didn’t need any more reasons.

He would just wait for Emma to do her job and destroy the Queen. That’s what she was supposed to do.

And if worse comes to worse, he would just ask Regina to jump off a cliff, please.

The store bell ringing interrupted his contemplations.

He turned and faced the door with a smile plastered on his face but it quickly dropped when he saw who it was.

Belle.

The giggling in his head stopped.

This was a terrible idea.

“Hello,” she offered with her lilting accent. He wondered if she thought she was originally from Australia like Graham believed he was the son of an Irishman. He wondered but he was too afraid to ask.

She was wearing athletic shorts. His mind stopped. Shorts. Her pale legs were all he could see.

He was just grateful she was wearing a plain t-shirt that covered her chest.

She licked her lips. He wanted to kiss them.

“Are you Mr. Gold?” she asked.

“Yes.”

He was drowning in her eyes. They were so blue. When he had been saving her from that awful place, they were dull and grey. Her skin had been too.

In just a short amount of time, she had become his Belle again.

The girl, because she is still so young despite being so old, exhales, “I just wanted to thank you,”

Mr. Gold, for he had to be Mr. Gold now, leaned on his cane, “For what m’dear.”

She tucked her chin out before walking towards him. He wanted to back away but there was nowhere he could go so he stood helpless.

“For saving my life Mr. Gold. For paying for my treatment-“ she started but he put a finger up to stop her.

“Ah- but that came with a price did it not?” he wanted to giggle at her open mouth. She just looked so surprised.

“But you’re offering me a job, no one else would do that, and from what I understand, you’re still paying me despite also paying for my sessions with Dr. Hopper.”

He wanted to smile at her. She was still so brave. So unafraid of the one person she should be afraid of.

“Plus,” she continued, oblivious to the lovesick look that was sliding onto his face, “I think working for you will help me remember.”

That word jolted him out of any fluffy thought that had been occupying his head.

“Remember what?” he asked, his grip on the cane tightening.

“I-“ she broke away from his gaze. It was one of the only times he had seen her uncomfortable, “Why did you save me?”

The question startled him but he recovered with a smile, “What do you mean dearie?”

She looked back up into his eyes, “You knew me before right? What was our relationship? Were we friends?”

The answer flew out of his mouth, “Yes. The very best of friends.”

He knew he should have not said a word but the satisfaction that lit up in her eyes was worth the price.

“But then why does Papa hate you?”

“Papa?” he asked with a raise of his eyebrows, attempting to change the subject.

She blushed and looked down at her feet. The pink that it raised looked so pretty on her pale skin. He forgot how much he loved to make her blush, “I’m sorry. I mean my Dad. I’ve been saying Papa lately… I don’t know why.”

“Your father and I do not get along. I am his creditor and sometimes he does not pay on time. I do not appreciate that. He also stole from me once. He stole something very precious to me.”

“I’m sorry you do not get along.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he waved his hand, “Are you ready to begin work?”

“What do you mean?” When he just looked at her, lines creased her eyes. Her fingers played with the edge of her shirt. She was nervous. Afraid.

The last time he saw this look on her face she had dropped his teacup.

He resisted the urge to grab her fingers and kiss them one by one.

“I mean you should start to work now. Like you did years before.”

“Do you think I can?”

“Belle I think you can do anything,” he said before realizing his mistake. But she didn’t seem to notice.

Instead, she smiled.

“Really?” she asked shyly. He thought she was even batting her eyes, but he knew that was just wishing on his part.

“Yes.”

She leaned in and he took a step back.

“Now there m’dear, it’s off to work! I need the floors scrubbed, the curios dusted, the files filed, I think you get the drift, you might even remember-“ he shot a smirk in her direction. One of these looks and most men would flee.

But she didn’t. She never did.

She just grinned, “I think I’ll remember soon enough.”

And with just a sentence, Rumplestiltskin began to hope again.

“As a welcome back gift, I would like to give you this,” he carefully took the rose out of the vase on the counter.

Her eyes brightened and her smile became even wider, “Oh thank you! How did you know roses are my favorite?”

Mr. Gold couldn’t help it. He smiled.

“You told me long ago.”

She sniffed the rose and shyly looked back at him, “Thank you for remembering.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marie French, otherwise known as Belle, hosts a dinner for Mr. Gold. Things don’t go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by my friend blackholeseason: Real World Belle is recovering under the care of Mr. Gold after leaving the asylum. She breaks his chipped cup by accident. Prompt: His response to this.  
> Originally posted on tumblr

It was hard for Mr. Gold to believe it but the end of summer was nearing.

He was quite glad for the season’s ending, as Miss French wore too many frilly dresses that looked like they belonged in Ruby’s closet for his liking.

When he commented upon this, Belle just smiled. Her eyes twinkled more often every day but they especially twinkled when he scolded her.

He was glad to see the only thing that had really changed was her name and her memories.

He wished he wasn’t so happy about her replacement memories, but it was giving him a second chance. He could start over their story. He could possibly even get it right.

Not that she would be very happy about the lies he spouted to keep her off the track of her real memories.

Sometimes he thought he would see flashes of something in her eyes but it would flee too fast for him to really tell.

“Mr. Gold.”

“Yes, my dear?” He filed his blank cards, one by one. It was quite a bit of fun to masquerade as the Pawn Owner sometimes. Especially when it came down to filing cards that had nothing written on them, or salvaging another piece of magic that was treated as if it were an empty soda bottle- especially if it actually was an empty soda bottle.

“Um.” Belle was nervous. She was never nervous. Mr. Gold wondered if he should also be nervous when she spoke again, “I was wondering if you’d like to join me at my house for dinner.”

He stopped filing. The smirk gathered up in the corners of his mouth.

“Now, Miss French, I don’t think that would be a good idea-“ he looked up and was startled to realize she was right across the counter. She was just wiping the front windows…

“Please Mr. Gold. I’d like to make you a dinner to thank you for, for everything that you’ve done really.” Her eyes were eager and Mr. Gold was reminded of a younger Belle who had been so willing to know about his son.

He swallowed.

She smiled and he knew then he had just lost the battle.

“My dear, your father and I aren’t on the best of terms-“ which was putting it mildly, “and I“

She placed her hand on his and the words stopped flowing.

“Then, my dear,” she whispered with a wiggling grin, “Let me cook for you at your place.”

Rumplestiltskin could not trust his voice so he nodded.

The blue in her eyes shone and he knew this was what she had wanted in the first place.

Belle had beaten him at his own game.

Again.

~

Marie worried over the stove. She still wasn’t used to these modern conveniences (modern - where had that thought come from) but she was not going to set Mr. Gold’s house on fire.

Well, he was watching her very carefully, so she had assumed even if she started a fire that he would take care of it with magic.

Or rather, a fire extinguisher.

Where was her head today- obviously not in Mr. Gold’s kitchen.

She took a peek at him. He was leaning on the counter lightly kicking his cane with his good leg.

There was no expression on his face.

She shivered.

She still wasn’t completely sure why she had insisted upon cooking him dinner. The thought had entered her head one evening when she visited Ruby at the diner. Per usual, she had sat alone just watching the world drift by.

It had been a very quiet evening as it had earlier been a beautiful day. One of those days where everyone is outside, walking, swimming, running. On her way over to the diner Marie had spied Henry playing tag with Ava and Nicholas.

It was just that kind of night. Quiet, sweet … a night where bittersweet memories are made.

Yet Marie sat watching Ruby flirt with one of the customers instead of making memories of her own.

She thought the man whom Ruby had her eye on may have been August, one of the men who helped her out of her dungeon (no, cell… that was it) a few months before. But she wasn’t altogether sure.

She sipped her Chamomile tea, idly wondering what her employer was up to.

Mr. Gold had been a godsend. Every day she was thankful for his company.

He had been the only one who didn’t treat her like she was a freak. Even Ruby, who had been kind enough to lend Marie half her wardrobe, sometimes gave her pitying looks anytime Marie said something funny.

So she was grateful to Mr. Gold. When she messed up and opened with words that made little sense, he smiled at her. Sometimes he even encouraged the tangled web of thoughts that fell out of her mouth.

And sometimes she felt like she could remember everything again.

He felt so familiar. She knew they had been close before the time of her imprisonment, but she still didn’t know how close or why they had been close to begin with.

He was twenty years older than her, that did not really encourage any thoughts of friendship but she supposed he couldn’t have been lying to her before. He didn’t look like a man who thrived on lying. Omitting the truth perhaps, she had seen it for herself once or twice already, even though he attempted to hide his deals in the back room of his shop.

But a liar- never.

She sometimes believed that they could have been in love. Mostly this was due to her father’s peculiar looks when talked about Mr. Gold mixed with her own affection and suppressed attraction to the man.

But any thoughts of a torrid love affair stopped when she realized he never touched her. In fact he often reeled from even the most innocent of brushes.

She cried after realizing this fact. The storm outside her bedroom window the night she dreamed about loving him matched her heart and mind’s feelings on the matter. But- life went on.

And instead she smiled and swept, chatted and cleaned, watched and wiped.

She did this over and over until the night when he sent her off with the barest of grins. It had been a long evening for him- Mayor Mills had come around glaring at Marie and Mr. Gold as if they were witches plotting her doom.

Marie had been hanging around Henry too much.

But that particular night she went over to the Diner, watched Ruby giggle wide-eyed over the writer and realized she wanted to do that too.

She wanted to giggle at Mr. Gold openly with him smiling back as if he were head over heels in love.

“So, tea in the evening… how very British of you,” August slid into the booth across from her.

“I’m Australian,” she automatically answered but it didn’t feel right. Her mother was Australian. Her father was …. British?

She was American right?

That also felt wrong but she couldn’t dwell on it long as August launched into one of his speeches.

She noticed he did this often with a gleam in his eyes. She had never been a receiver of one of these pep-talks but she’d seen him do it often enough. Usually they were directed at the Sheriff.

“What’s bothering you?”

“Who says anything is bothering me?” she took a bite out of her biscotti. She wanted him to stop already and he hadn’t even begun.

He smiled in return.

“Your shoulders are sagged and instead of dancing around outside with the kids like you’d normally do, you’re inside watching Ruby paint her nails.”

“And sipping tea,” Marie added with a twisted smirk.

“And sipping tea,” he agreed.

They sat there in silence for a moment; Marie stared at her half-bitten nails while August just continued to smirk.

Marie was beginning to see why Mr. Gold avoided August.

“What is it you want Mr. Booth?” she sighed.

“How about we go out for a drink?” he asked with a quirk of his lips. Marie reeled back in panic, dropping her disinterested act entirely.

“No!” she half-shouted. He raised an eyebrow and she flushed, “Um, I’m sorry, I just don’t think we’d work out.”

He leaned in and whispered, “Good, that’s what I wanted to hear.”

Marie gazed at him wide-eyed. What on earth was he smoking?

She tore away from his eyes and took another slow sip of her tea.

“So, who do you like?” August whispered with a conspiratorial glint in his eye.

It was as if he already knew. Marie chugged down the rest of her tea as if she was Ruby at Ladies’ Night and glared at him.

“I like no one.”

“Is it Dr. Hopper? You have to careful with him, he can bug some people.”

“No it’s not Dr. Hopper.”

“How about Dr. Whale?”

“What is it with you and Doctors?” Marie hissed.

His eyes danced, “Should I say who I really think it is?”

Marie’s eyes widened and before she could stop him August handed her a cookbook.

“I find the best answers in life are in books,” he grinned.

Marie took the book and glanced at the title, “I would have to say I agree with that,” she breathed. It was a Julia Child cookbook.

“Just give it a try, would you?”

Before she could ask what he wanted her to try August slid out of the booth with a wave.

She smiled down at the book and that was when she had come up with this insane plan.

And that was why Mr. Gold was berating her.

“Miss French, please watch the chicken more carefully,” he limped over to her with a scowl and turned down the heat.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Gold, I got lost in my thoughts,” she bit the inside of her lip and, not for the first time, wished she wasn’t such a klutz in the kitchen.

She turned to look at him and was surprised to see him so close to her but then again they were both at the stove.

Mr. Gold seemed to realize this as well and he quickly backed off, or as quick as a man with a limp could back off.

“I’ll leave it to you Miss French- I, uh, have some contracts to look over as it were. Just don’t burn down the kitchen while I’m gone.”

And then he disappeared.

Like magic.

Again.

~

Rumplestiltskin glowered at his reflection in the mirror.

Why did he let her cook for him? 

Better question, why did he insist on Belle working for him in the first place?

His mouth stiffened. He knew the answer.

She looked so domestic in the kitchen burning the chicken.

It was as if none of it had ever happened. That the curse, the kiss, everything, was a bad dream that Rumplestiltskin conjured up one winter’s night.

He pulled at his tie. 

The tie was proof enough that they weren’t in the Dark Castle.

He eyed his mouth. It wasn’t covered in scales or tinged green.

Well, there were some benefits to the damn curse after all.

He wasn’t nearly as monstrous in looks as he was before, although he was still just an old man. A lecher they’d call him.

But Belle, wonderful Belle would never think that.

He wished, not for the first time, that she remembered him. That she wasn’t fooled by the misdirection’s of others, that for once in her life, she didn’t believe what she was told.

He wanted her to be curious like she used to. Spy, dig around, find something that proved her dreams right and her reality wrong.

But then again, he wanted her to stay like this forever. He wanted this second chance.

“Mr. Gold?” her voice drifted by his ears.

He turned away from the monster in the mirror.

“Yes Miss French,” he smiled one of his goddamned smiles that meant so much and yet so little.

He knew everyone hated those smiles. He knew that because he did too.

She appeared by his side holding two cups of tea with a guilty grin.

He took a cup with a curious glance, “So, dearie,” he sipped the tea and winced. It was much too strong, “what went wrong?

“Well,” she wriggled under his gaze like a small troublesome child.

He held back a smile. This wasn’t the first time he had seen this look.

“The chicken is doing fine, it’s the biscuits I was making for dessert- they’re completely black and I wanted them to be so good for you-“ she rushed.

“It’s no matter, tea is fine. Shall we go into the kitchen?” Belle, he wanted to add.

She nodded again looking a little like a bobble-head. He wanted to smirk at the nervous tick but he was too busy calming his own nerves.

Tonight really was a poor idea.

~

They talk about everything as they eat and drink the dinner and drinks Belle prepared.

Politics- not national as poor Miss French has no idea what is going on there and to be frank neither does Mr. Gold. But then again it’s not like he actually cares.

But small town politics were much more interesting than the national scene anyway- at least if your mayor is an evil Queen.

They talk of Henry and his silly book- of the Sheriff and her battle with the Mayor- of the kind Dr. Hopper and Belle’s treatment- of August (a topic that Mr. Gold desperately changes for more reasons than he wishes to list) and that is somehow changed into the topic of her father and then to the worst subject of all.

The teacup.

“Why is this cup chipped?” she asks, glancing at the cup he grasped.

His finger grazed the chip and he tried to ease himself into an answer.

“Well, dearie,” he broke out a traditional Rumplestiltskin smile. Her gaze ddin’t break away from his face.

He sipped from the cup in question before answering, “Traditionally when a cup is chipped it means someone broke it.”

Belle raised an eyebrow, “And who, may I ask, broke this beautiful teacup?”

He sipped out of the cup.

He didn’t want to stop drinking the tea but it was almost out.

He wanted to run from her face that reeked of adoration and love and future mistakes.

He couldn’t tell her she did it. He just couldn’t.

“Mr. Gold- are you all right?” her voice shattered his reflections.

Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes. “Yes, sorry, Miss French, I was just reminiscing.”

“You must’ve loved her very much.”

He smiled at her. A real smile that he only gave to her, “Yes, I did. I still do.”

Belle got up before Mr. Gold could stop her, “May I look?” she asked.

He looked up at her. She was by his side staring at the teacup as if it was her teacup too- not even knowing that it was. Her eyes softened and she was grasping her hands as if she needed to touch it.

He bestowed the teacup to her. She was the only one who had the right to touch it.

Or so he thought until she dropped it.

“Oh my God, no, no, no. I’m so sorry.” She was on the ground and Rumplestiltskin watched her pick up the teacup- which was now split into two.

“I can glue it back together, I can, please let me do this,” her hands shook over the two pieces and Rumplestiltskin had to tuck away his greed or else he would tear the cup away from her hands before she dropped it again.

He kneeled down beside her, “Miss French, it’s all right.” He stopped when he noticed the tears on her face.

Before his rational side could stop him, he grabbed her chin, “Look at me. It’s just a cup,” he lied.

She smiled while more tears fell out, “You’re lying Mr. Gold. You never lie.”

“I think you give me more credit than I deserve.”

She shook her head. Her smile didn’t break, “No, no I don’t. This cup means more to you than your own life. I heard about what you did to my father over it.”

He stared at her and she grabbed his hands. Before he could shift away, she gave him the two pieces of the cup.

“It’s all right. I know the Mayor put him up to it. I don’t think what you did was right but I can’t say what my dad did was right either.” She glanced down at the cup.

“Mr. Gold, I know I have no right to demand this but who was she?”

Rumplestiltskin wanted to hug her, take her into his arms and inform her that she could demand anything from him at any time.

But more than anything, he wished she remembered.

Any ideas about second chances died when she looked at him like that. He didn’t deserve it. Not without her knowledge.

Without taking her eyes off him, Belle leaned into him.

The hug was slow and warm. There was a decent distance from their chests but Rumplestiltskin could feel her bare hand on his back.

Her other hand was linking their fingers together.

“Miss French,” he murmured.

He could feel the smile that spread on her face, as they were now somehow cheek-to-cheek, “Shh, Mr. Gold, it’s all right.”

He pulled away from her.

“What’s the matter?”

“My knee is hurting.”

“Oh…” her eyes grew bigger, “Oh! I’m so sorry! Let me help you!”

Within a few moments Mr. Gold was standing beside her with his cane in hand and the broken teacup on the table.

“Thank you Miss French.”

“It’s quite all right.”

She positioned herself so that he could smell her vanilla shampoo.

She was becoming much too close for Mr. Gold’s comfort.

“Mr. Gold, why do you run a pawn shop?” she asked. She looked up at him as if he could do no wrong and Rumplestiltskin crumbled like an old, weary castle.

Or like the old man he was.

“I suppose I like to collect old things,” he attempted to give her a smile.

She gazed at his tie, “Why old things of all the things in the world? And why sell them to people instead of just collecting them?”

He sat in the chair that had been forgotten, “Well, I suppose you wouldn’t like the answer of money-“ she laughed, “but that’d be the honest answer.”

“Good. I like honesty.”

He wanted to squirm under gaze but held it in with a pasted smirk, “And to answer the first question, Miss French, I collect old things because I have a fondness for stories- just like you do,” he pointed the short end of his cane to her.

She sat down on the table- looking very much like she did a long time ago in a very different place, wide-eyed and beautiful, “You do know me well.” She craned her neck around the room, “Are there any old things with stories here?”

“You mean other than me?”

She glared at him and tapped his leg with her foot, “You aren’t old.”

He licked his lips. If only she knew how old he really was.

“Well, Miss French, I believe I have a collection of curiosities around here somewhere. Why don’t you take a look?”

“You mean I can snoop around?” He had never heard someone who sounded so delighted about meddling.

“What’s mine is yours…” he said but she had already swept away to the other room.

He stared at where she had been moments ago before inspecting the teacup.

It wasn’t the same chipped cup that kept him going day after day.

It was broken in half. Rumplestiltskin knew there was a joke in here somewhere about broken (empty) hearts and chipped cups but he didn’t want to see it.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marie French remembers.

Marie was in her element.

She didn’t want to admit it but she really had a thing for mysteries, especially mystery stories.

One of the only clear memories that she had was her reading her mother’s Trixie Belden and Nancy Drew books while she was growing up. It was a secret pleasure of hers, solving crimes in novels. She loved it when she was right- which, if she remembered correctly, happened much more often than when she was wrong.

She couldn’t stand the idea of solving the mystery of why she was in the asylum, she couldn’t abide the idea that someone purposefully did this to her, but she had to know the secret of Mr. Gold’s items.

She was sure there was something in the beautiful house that would arrest her interest.

Marie turned into the library.

Or was it a study? From the looks of things, with the mahogany desk and the dark shelves with gads of books placed on them, it could be either.

Marie preferred the idea of a library though. She could see Mr. Gold all wrapped up in some gothic novel with ghouls and spirits wandering through his home.

Maybe he even wore a Snuggie.

She giggled at the vision before glancing around the room again.

There was just so much to look at. There were mountains (cascades) of books, beautiful decorative art pieces placed precariously on the shelves, why, there was even a sorcerer’s hat out of a fantasy novel perched up at the top of the bookshelf.

It was blue with the moon and stars gathered on the fabric. It was a very endearing hat. Marie itched to have it in her hands- she could just imagine the look on Mr. Gold’s face if she paraded downstairs with it on.

Well, now that she thought about it she had to do it. Mr. Gold’s (real) laughs were rare and precious, Marie had only seen it happen a handful of times (12 exactly) and she cherished each one. Especially when she had been the one to make it happen.

The crinkling of his eyes, the turn of his lips – that’s all she could visualize as she grabbed the desk chair and placed it by the side of the bookshelf where the hat awaited.

She stepped onto the chair very carefully because she was indeed, the clumsiest girl in the world and she couldn’t make Mr. Gold laugh if she was crumpled at the foot of a chair, and reached for the hat.

Marie was grateful that she was able to snatch it quickly without too much of a problem. It was soft but sort of squishy at the bottom of the hat.

Within a second of her feet padding the floor, Marie slammed the hat down on her head ready to flaunt downstairs-

Rumplestiltskin. She gagged and whimpered.

Within seconds she fell to the ground, the hat spilling off her head.

28 years, 28 years, 28 years she was in that hellhole for 28 years. The Queen. It was the Queen. The mayor-queen.

Where was she? This wasn’t the Dark Castle? But Rumplestiltskin was downstairs- but that wasn’t Rumplestiltskin- he didn’t giggle and he wasn’t yelling and-

Belle put a hand on her face- it was wet. He threw me out, she remembered, he threw me out- he was a coward-

Or was she the coward? Who was the brave and who was the coward?

Her head hurt, every part of her body wanted to die. She had to get out before she was trapped again. 28 years.

28 years of the same thing, the same place, the same people- with nothing to do but wait.

Belle vomited onto the floor. It didn’t resemble the meal she had cooked earlier.

That’s right, she had cooked for Goldstiltskin-Mr. Gold-Rumplestiltskin?

She had to get out. Now.

She pushed herself off the floor, ignoring the bile that continued to churn in her throat as well as the smell of sick on the carpet.

Belle blindly ran downstairs.

“Miss French? Miss French? Where are you going?” Rumplestiltskin cried out her false name as she sprinted past his hobbled leg (when was he hurt she wondered).

She shuddered to avoid sobbing and ran down the porch away from him.

~

Mary Margaret considered herself to be a sensible girl.

So when Marie French showed up at the door crowing about fairy tales and beasts and Rumplestiltskin, she let her in. It was better for the crazy to be contained in one place, especially the place where the Sheriff lives than it to be wandering around the streets of Storybrooke 10 o’clock at night.

Plus, Dr. Hopper, David, August, Mr. French, and Mr. Gold were all reachable by phone so if Marie did turn, well, even a little more mad, she’d have plenty of backup. Not even including Emma.

“I don’t know what’s happening, I just keep seeing that room. I lived in that room for 28 years. Why didn’t I grow old, why haven’t you grown old?” Marie was sobbing on Mary Margaret’s couch as the schoolteacher patted her on the back.

“It’s alright, you’re out of there now,” Mary Margaret soothed. It seemed like Marie was beginning to remember whatever had happened in that terrible place- although 28 years did seem like a bit of a stretch. No wonder that she hadn’t been able to remember anything for so long, it was obvious she was suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and that this was Marie’s mind’s way of coping with the issue.

Poor girl.

“Mary Margaret?” Emma opened the door with wide eyes and two bags of Chinese food, “What’s going on?”

Marie wrapped her head in her hands. Mary Margaret could hear muffled tears.

“Um, well, it seems that Marie remembers more than she did a few hours ago?” she answered with a weak smile.

“Oh”

“But she also seems to remember-“

“I remember magic.” The two roommates looked at the guest. She stared past at the door, eyes unblinking, “I remember ogres and a man tied together with a curse, true love’s kiss, and-“ Her eyes watered again, “no happily ever afters. The evil queen took care of that,” she spat, showing more venom than Emma on her worst day.

It was quite an impressive feat.

Emma groaned softly before muttering, “Not more magic stuff. I just came back from talking to Henry.”

Mary Margaret pursed her lips “Marie would you like us to call Dr. Hopper?”

The brunette shook her head; “He’ll put me in that place again. I can’t-I can’t go back. I won’t go back. I’ll die if I go back. She’ll kill me this time.” Marie’s hands shook and Mary Margaret grabbed one.

They were soft and clammy. She was terrified.

“Would you like us to call your father?” Mary Margaret whispered as Emma locked the door and put the food on the table.

This time the head shake was more hesitant, “No-no, I don’t think so. He won’t remember-“ her eyes snapped open.

“Fucking Rumplestiltskin. That bastard.”

Emma choked on her rice, “Wha-What?” she coughed.

“Call Mr. Gold please.” A sickeningly sweet smile broke onto Marie’s face.

It made Mary Margaret uneasy but she nodded at Emma to get the phone to make the call.

She knew Mr. Gold was Marie’s employer but who calls their employer when they’re having a mental breakdown?

~

He drove her home with the blessing of Sheriff Swan and Snow White.

He was glad that she was safe. But he didn’t like what he was seeing.

Tearstains were never a good sign on Belle’s face.

He had seen her cry before, although she always tried to hide it, but this was the first time here that he had seen tears on her face.

How she managed to look so beautiful when crying still amazed him.

When he had gotten the phone call from Emma, he had been driving around everywhere looking for her.

He still wasn’t sure what exactly drove her to this- he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know honestly- when Emma called him she sounded perturbed by Belle’s behavior, but when he arrived everything seemed perfectly fine.

Other than the tear streaks that were on Belle’s face, everything was peachy-keen.

Snow had handed Belle to him as if she were a rag doll. She didn’t seem capable of speech, so he just took Belle’s hand without a word.

Emma had come downstairs with him and helped him get Belle in the car. When the door had shut, she spoke.

“She’s mad Gold.”

He smiled, “Mad as in crazy or mad as in angry, Sheriff?”

Her shoulders shook, “I don’t know,” she admitted, “Possibly both. Possibly neither. But she was saying things-“

Her eyes were cloudy and Gold felt a prickle of unease cross his chest.

Belle had run out crying.

Did she remember?

He couldn’t imagine what would make her remember in that stuffy library. The only thing he thought would do it was the chipped cup but that did nothing but break his heart again.

He shook off his thoughts and looked into the car. Belle was sitting there. Just sitting patiently waiting for him.

She had waited long enough, “Sheriff, while I appreciate your worry, I’ll make sure I get her home safe and sound-“

“Good. I’ll be calling Moe French as soon as you leave. He should know the situation.” She waited as if she expected him to protest.

He smiled instead, “Be sure to give him my regards.”

“I won’t need to. Because you’ll be able to do that yourself when you take her home.” The Sheriff’s voice was sharp and he grimaced. The damned savior caught on too fast.

He wanted to talk to Belle privately before letting her go out to her pathetic father. He wanted to know what exactly caused this change in demeanor.

He knew it was the Curse, but what exactly did it to do to her?

“Just to let you know Gold, I think you had something to do with this-“

“Well, she was at my home when she started her breakdown, but we can talk about that later Sheriff.” His smile widened, as soon as you break the curse.

She folded her arms across her chest and nodded. Rumplestiltskin took that as a go ahead and limped over to the other side of his car.

Damn meddling Sheriff.

“Mr. Gold,” Belle’s voice broke into his thoughts.

He slowed down so he could look at her better. He expected her to look sad and upset as she did when he stole a peek before- he was half-hoping that he’d be able to comfort her, petting her hair, holding her close, never letting her go-

These thoughts died when she stared at him with an inferno in her eyes.

Perhaps she was mad, “What is it dearie?” he rasped.

“That’s not your true name.”

Her eyes were accusing.

Rumplestiltskin’s voice died.

She remembered.

And just like his worst nightmares- she was angry.

Rightfully so but still, he hoped that she would love him still, that she’d kiss him when she remembered. He hoped and hoped despite knowing that no woman would forgive him for what he did.

Not even perfect, beautiful Belle.

“You left me to rot with the mayor-queen. For 28 years,” her voice shattered, “possibly even longer- I just can’t, I can’t remember everything, but then I can remember everything- every last moment in there, in that little grey room forever alone with everything being the same every day-“

She was crying. Rumplestiltskin pulled over to the side of the road and put the car in park.

They were in the middle of nowhere. That was probably for the best.

The last time someone remembered they ended up dead.

She choked on her sobs. He wanted to hold her but he kept his hands on the wheel.

“28 years alone with nothing-“

“Belle,” he started and that seemed to rouse her.

“And you,” she spat, “You remembered this whole time. You made me work for you again- you didn’t have enough slavery the first time?”

He was at a loss as she continued her assault, “I took care of you again, you made me reenact everything it seems, and I even broke that awful cup again- that you kept through worlds and-“

Belle was cut short as he grabbed her hands, “Belle you are everything to me, I didn’t want you to get hurt, I thought-“

She wasn’t listening, “You beat my father over that cup? That stupid cup that I shattered and you did nothing about it? You beat my father over it?” she shrieked before wrenching her hands away from him.

He reached to hold her but was swiftly punched in the gut.

Despite being so lithe, she definitely had some fight in her.

“You bastard. You beat my father over the ‘it’s just a cup dearie’” she mimicked.

“I thought he drove you to suicide,” he protested. She slapped him.

“If you knew me at all, you know I would never kill myself. No matter how bad things get. I couldn’t do it. I’m too much of a damned optimist.”

Somewhere in Rumplestiltskin’s twisted brain a part of him was amused to see how disgusted she looked about being an optimist.

“You’re right- I should’ve known that. But the Queen said-“

She laughed. It rang hollow, “The Queen. The Queen. You believed the Queen? Despite her being the one to ‘put me up to it’. You believed her?”

He nodded ashamed, “I looked for you, but I couldn’t sense you anywhere-“

“I was with her, in a tower, with no one to speak to. I wasn’t allowed to be brave there.”

Neither of them spoke. Rumplestiltskin wasn’t sure what else to say. What did you say to the person you loved?

Belle was the first one to break the silence, “Why did you bring me back into your life- when you found out I was alive?”

He closed his eyes, waiting for another punch or slap, “Because I love you.”

“But you didn’t do anything- my other self, Marie, she was in love with you-“

“Part of the curse, dear. You are drawn to the people you loved before.”

“Why do you remember?”

He knew he was going to get slapped for this one, “It’s my curse.”

His cheek didn’t sting as much as he thought it would, for which he was grateful.

“You bloody coward. Why would you create a curse like this? Why did you enact it?” Her pretty little mouth was agape.

“Be careful dear, or you’ll catch some flies.” She closed her mouth with an annoyed look on her face.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I didn’t enact it. As for my reasons for creating the curse, I had nothing to lose.” You were gone, Baelfire was gone, he wanted to say but withheld it.

“But, but why?”

“You’re still much too kind Belle. Why would an old monster create an evil curse, you wonder, when the better question would be why not?”

She stared at him, her eyes searching his.

He waited for her to say, “You’re no monster,” but it didn’t happen.

She had changed. For the wiser. She knew the truth now.

“Take me home.” She sounded tired.

He watched as she turned away from him.

And then he drove her home.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The anger ebbs away and everything begins anew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “What do you know about Rumplestiltskin?”
> 
> Henry started to speak but Emma held a hand up, continuing, “Because I think I may have a lead on that.”
> 
> Henry snapped his book shut as he leaped off the tire swing, “Who?”
> 
> Emma rubbed a hand on her forehead and sighed. She often sighed when discussing Operation Cobra, “Mr. Gold.”
> 
> “I knew it!” Henry whooped before mentally calculating a way for Belle and Rumplestiltskin to reunite.

Henry didn’t want to admit it to anyone, especially himself, but he really liked the tire swing in front of the French’s home.

Marie fixed it earlier this summer with some help from his mom (his real mom thank you). Ever since then Henry and Paige played on it non-stop.

Marie’s front yard had become a sanctuary for the schoolchildren of Storybrooke.

Henry had to admit; it was a lot more fun than the Evil Queen’s playground. Although Marie’s yard only had one swing, Marie often came out to play with them when she wasn’t working for Mr. Gold. Tag, baseball, she even taught them how to play rugby once although Henry was really bad at it!

Henry really liked Marie. He hoped, when she first arrived, that she would remember fairytale world since she had been isolated from the rest of Storybrooke. But… that wasn’t the case.

She was beautiful like a princess was supposed to be. When she first arrive on the scene, Henry scoured the book for a story that fit and was surprised to realize that she was Belle, a daughter of a simple knight who was trying to keep his keep together in the face of ogres. Belle, the tamer of monster and man alike, taken away from her true love before she could save him.

The book never said if she lived or died, it was difficult for Henry to tell if the Queen was lying when she told Rumplestiltskin that Belle died. He remembered his heart cracking when he read about the agony the man went through, believing that his true love was dead.

But then Marie showed up and she fit Belle. Henry knew in his heart that she was Belle and his new goal was to reunite Belle and Rumplestiltskin.

That was if he could only figure out who Rumplestiltskin actually was.

He was the trickiest of all the characters in his book, there were a few times where Henry suspected Dr. Whale of being him, but then again Mr. Gold fit the character as well. There were a few other weaker choices but those were the ones he privately thought were the most likely candidates. He didn’t confide in Emma about this, he knew she wouldn’t really get this part of Operation Cobra.

However, he was pleasantly surprised when Emma came up to him in Marie’s yard with a few ideas about Rumplestitskin. Henry, instead of playing with the other children, was swinging and reading his book.

“Henry!” she called out as she exited the French’s house. Henry craned his neck to look over at his biological mother and beamed.

She didn’t look nearly as thrilled as Henry. Her Sheriff’s badge hung proudly on her jacket and she was frowning down at Henry when she reached him.

“What do you know about Rumplestiltskin?”

Henry started to speak but Emma held a hand up, continuing, “Because I think I may have a lead on that.”

Henry snapped his book shut as he leaped off the tire swing, “Who?”

Emma rubbed a hand on her forehead and sighed. She often sighed when discussing Operation Cobra, “Mr. Gold.”

“I knew it!” Henry whooped before mentally calculating a way for Belle and Rumplestiltskin to reunite.

“Not so fast kiddo,” Emma winced before muttering, “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”

Henry schooled his face so it would look like the perfect combination of sweet and eager.

She fell for it, “Kid, Marie was over at our place last night, kind of sounding…” she hesitated, “a little off-kilter.”

“But,” Emma continued, “she said something about Rumplestiltskin in one of her clearer moments, and then she demanded us to call Mr. Gold. I don’t know why she even said the name Rumplestiltskin, but you have that whole idea that she’s Belle, and Rumplestiltskin is the beast so I figured…”

He rushed at her and gave her a hug. “Thanks Emma!” he said, his voice muffled by her voluminous hair.

He could feel her cheeks as squeezed back, “No problem Henry.”

There were times where Henry knew for sure that Emma loved him and this was one of those times.

~

Belle, not Marie, stared at the door that Emma disappeared through.

The Sheriff had come by to “check up on her” after her behavior the night before, but she didn’t ask too many questions other than:

“Are you ok, Marie?”

and

“What was up with the Rumplestiltskin comment?”

Belle, as Marie, answered both very succinctly, “I’m fine thank you and Henry told me that Mr. Gold was Rumplestiltskin in his fairy tale book so the name stuck.”

Belle had no idea if either of those retorts were true. She felt fine, but very embarrassed at her anger, outrage, and sheer insanity, especially towards Emma and Mary Margaret (and she even felt a piercing of guilt about Rumplestiltskin although she tried to hush it up). However, she immediately regretted saying anything about Henry and his book as Emma raised an eyebrow at that answer.

Never bring up someone else’s child if you’re trying to escape answering questions, it’s a poor decision.

Emma didn’t say anything, instead she looked back through the door, where Belle knew Henry was swishing his legs back and forth on the tire swing.

Belle wished she could join him; it sounded like much more fun than being questioned about your sanity.

Emma had hemmed and hawed for a bit before leaving the French residence with a small warning, “Marie, I don’t know what happened to you in there, but don’t let it affect your life out here.”

The real warning was clear.

Mess with Henry and you’ll die.

Emma was already a decent mother, even if she didn’t realize it yet.

Belle chewed the inside of her lip. She couldn’t decide whether to go to Rumplestiltskin or not.

She loved him still. She dearly wanted to be by his side, but she was so enraged at him. Not even for abandoning her as she told him the night before, but for not believing that she loved him in the first place.

It took all of Belle’s courage to even admit she loved him. He changed her opinion of him little by little until she was so smitten by him that even an Evil Queen could see it lined on her face.

She missed him, but knew, this time, she couldn’t go to Rumplestiltskin.

Rumplestiltskin had to come to her.

And if he didn’t, well there was a library in Storybrooke that seemed like it needed a good dusting.

Belle was good at cleaning up dark, old places.

~

Regina didn’t like to lose.

Her new playground stood empty as the schoolchildren took to the hot summer streets.

Even Henry (although she shouldn’t really be surprised at that) left the playground for the cool shade of the Frenchs’ tree.

Damn that girl.

She was only useful as a pawn and yet the pawn escaped the grasp of the Queen.

This wasn’t how chess was supposed to work.

This pawn was possibly the worst pain in her side yet. It was a toss up between her and Miss Swan.

Speaking of which… Regina took out a manila folder from her desk and smiled wickedly at it.

Sidney, the mole, had received more information from the Sheriff. Apparently he met up with her last night after she received a little visit from the girl.

“Miss Swan said she was spouting the same nonsense as Henry,” the note said, “the sheriff even mentioned a name, Rumplestiltskin.”

Regina stopped reading.

Her eye was twitching too much to concentrate on any insipid theory Sidney came up with underneath the facts.

The girl remembered.

Well… this changed the game quite a bit.

Slowly, Regina’s eye stopped twitching as she considered what her next move could be.

Unfortunately for Regina, she had an unexpected visitor.

~

Rumplestiltskin knocked three times before springing himself backwards.

Just in time for the door to swing open revealing Regina’s scowling face.

“What do you want,” she sneered.

He pasted a half-assed grin on his face, “To talk about the facts, dearie. You know… the real ones.”

He could see the debate rolling in her dead eyes before it ended with the door slamming in his face.

How rude.

He reached over with his cane and knocked once.

She didn’t answer.

Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes, plucked out his very own set of keys from his suit pocket and unlocked the door.

He readied his cane in case of attack but was only greeted with slimy words, “I could call the Sheriff on you Mr. Gold.”

“Now why would you do that Regina?”

Fury flashed in her eyes, “You just threatened me by breaking and entering.”

Rumplestiltskin laughed, how could he not, when she was missing the point entirely, “If I wanted to hurt you dear, Henry would be in Emma’s hold already.”

Regina crumpled at the vision. “What do you want?” she seethed.

How could he persuade her of this nicely, “If you do not leave Belle alone I will end your little experiment here. Everyone will remember and everyone will want you dead.”

As expected, Regina rolled her eyes, but he wasn’t done with her yet, “Don’t forget that with a small little word I can make your life a living hell.”

This was when the fear crept into her face. Rumplestiltskin lapped it up.

“Should I say it then, your highness?”

Rumplestiltskin watched as she steeled herself. She smiled, her white teeth bared, “You understand this Rumplestiltskin, if your girl or yourself or anyone else come after Henry, I’ll be sure that you’ll be situated quite nicely in Sheriff Swan’s cell. Is that clear?”

“Likewise,” he spat, enjoying the way his spit landed on her forehead. Humming merrily he slammed the door shut.

As he stepped onto the walkway outside, he wondered when she would realize that both of their decks were empty at the moment.

There was only so much emotional trauma and damage you could do without magic.

A child’s laugh interrupted his thought, and he turned to see Henry with Sheriff Swan.

“Mr. Gold,” Henry called out before he charged up the walkway. The young boy cocked his head, “What are you doing here?”

Mr. Gold, as he had to think of himself as, leaned on his walking stick, “Oh just visiting our lovely Mayor. How are you Sheriff Swan?” He attempted a smile at the blonde. She folded her arms and raised an eyebrow at him.

At least she wasn’t completely stupid and insipid like most of the sheep that dwelled Storybrooke. It was probably where Henry got his bravery. It sure wasn’t from Regina.

“Mr. Gold,” Sheriff Swan nodded, without breaking her stance. She looked determined not to seem ruffled, but her shoulders were tense and she avoided looking at him in the eye.

From that, he surmised that they were talking about the book again.

“So, uh, Mr. Gold,” Henry started.

“Henry,” Emma warned, her eyes widening.

The boy ignored her, “Have you seen Marie? She was supposed to play with us kids, since it’s her day off working for you and all, but she didn’t come out today. Emma visited her earlier but she’s not saying anything.” At the last sentence, Henry stole a peek at his biological mother.

She grimaced.

“I have not had the chance to see her since last night when I had to drive her home. She wasn’t feeling in tip-top shape, you see, Henry. But I’m sure she’ll play with your classmates again in no time at all.”

To Mr. Gold’s surprise, Henry frowned, “But shouldn’t you go and check up on her? She’s your employee after all.”

“I’m sure after a visit from Emma, as well as a visit from our beloved town psychiatrist, she’ll be a bit tired today. I’ll see her at work, I’m sure.” The lie slipped out easily. He wondered if he actually believed Belle would come to him again. She did it so many times before. It wasn’t hard to think that maybe she would show up again.

A soft voiced changed that opinion, “I don’t think she’ll be coming to work for a while, Mr. Gold.” Mr. Gold glanced at Emma in surprise. Her face softened at his expression and he wondered wildly if he looked as upset as he did the night he beat Belle’s father. He shouldn’t be this upset. He knew that he was going to lose her. It was always inevitable.

But maybe he believed his own lie more than he realized.

He cleared his throat, “What do you mean, Sheriff Swan?”

She unfolded her arms and placed her hands on her hips instead, “Listen, Mr. Gold, I don’t know or understand your weird past with her. I really don’t get it. She said some weird things last night before you got there, and…” Emma looked back down at Henry who was smiling at her encouragingly.

Bae’s face flashed before Mr. Gold. He closed his eyes for a moment until Emma spoke once again.

“I don’t think she’s going to forgive whatever you did, or didn’t do, until you go over there and talk to her yourself.”

“But that would require bravery, Sheriff, and I’ve never been a brave man,” He flashed a true Rumplestiltskin smile at them and Emma shivered.

But Henry faced Rumplestiltskin head on, “Mr. Gold it’s not hard! Just say that you’re sorry! And that you love her!”

“What?”

“Henry!” The blonde wisp looked horrified at her son’s words, “Henry, what?”

“But it’s true!” Henry protested.

Rumplestiltskin wanted to laugh. Or throw a tantrum, but the two feelings weren’t mutually exclusive in the Dark One’s case. Even a child in a cursed realm could see his feelings for Belle.

No wonder the damned queen was able to manipulate her, if the two of them were that obvious.

They were probably worse than Snow and Charming.

Now that was a horrifying thought.

“It’s alright, Miss Swan,” he said. “People see things that they wish to see, regardless of the validity of those assumptions.”

He bent down to Henry’s height and winced when his knee cracked.

“Mr. Gold?”

“I’ll go visit Miss French for you. Do you want me to say anything in particular to her?”

Henry twisted his mouth as if he was trying to think of the right answer. Clever boy.

“Tell her the truth,” the young man decided with a nod of his head.

Rumplestiltskin smiled.

That was the right answer.

~

It was late afternoon when Belle finally prodded herself out of the house. She had skimmed all the books that her alter ego owned, cooked, and cleaned, but she couldn’t help but feel that she was in hiding.

Belle did not hide.

So out she went, smiling as a few children passed her by on their bicycles, waving hello to their favorite playmate.

It was nice to see that even in a cursed land such as this, children could still smile.

She wasn’t sure where she was walking to, although she made sure that she wasn’t near Mr. Gold’s home or shop.

The sunlight draped over her, despite it being quite late. She was quite glad that she wore one of her sundresses because it was still hot. She felt a sweat drop dancing down the back. She hoped it wasn’t noticeable.

“Ah Marie!”

Belle turned to face Dr. Whale. He smiled cheekily at her, and she wondered who he really was.

A prince? A villain? An adventurer? A stooge?

Did it really matter?

“Hello Dr. Whale,” she said, giving him her sweetest smile.

“I was wondering if you were feeling any better? I heard you may have had a relapse last night.”

The smile threatened to ebb away, but Belle forced it to stay, “I’m very well thank you. Is there something I can help you with?”

The Doctor eyes brightened, and she wondered if he was truly that lonely for company.

“Well, actually, Marie, I was wondering if you’d like to join me for a meal at Granny’s.”

The smile did slide off her face then. Oh dear.

“Um, well, I don’t think that would be a good idea-” she faltered. How do you explain that you already have your true love especially in a place like Storybrooke?

Especially if you aren’t speaking to your true love.

She could see the argument form on his lips but he stopped suddenly. Belle looked down and saw a cane on Dr. Whale’s arm.

Relief swarmed her.

“Now, Dr. Whale, are you harassing my employee?” Rumplestiltskin’s silken voice muttered.

Belle didn’t want to face him, she was afraid she’d beam and ruin whatever Rumplestiltskin was about to do.

Dr. Whale, however, she could look at. And he looked quite puzzled, “Mr. Gold,” the good doctor began, “I was just asking her out on a date…”

“Alas, she’s too busy for any dates at the moment, I have her working hard. On the floor, on the table…” Rumplestiltskin’s words drifted out to where they could be understood by both parties.

Belle blushed and was now even more determined not to look at Rumplestilskin.

Dr. Whale, to his credit, saw the blush and heard the words.

“Ah, I see,” he frowned, “Well, if you ever are free Marie, give me a call?” He stuffed his hands in jean pocket and walked off to the diner, presumably to hit on Ruby.

Poor Ruby.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”

Belle looked away from him, “It’s all right.”

She could feel his hand mere centimeters away from her face, but right as she turned to face him, he pulled his hand away.

He looked so human now. His eyes were such a lovely shade of brown instead of inky irises, his hair straight instead of curly. But his heart hadn’t changed and he looked at her the same way he always did.

It was a grand mix of wonder, fear, and love. The lilting of his eyebrow, the soft expression around his mouth, every little expression he made

She wanted to kiss that mouth again despite her anger.

Which was melting away every second.

“Should we talk here?” she asked, darting her eyes around Main Street. People milled about, August was even leaning against the wall of a shop across the street.

He eyed the two of them and smiled.

She swallowed, nervous. His angle was something she didn’t want to think about.

“Belle, I love you. I’m sorry for everything,” Rumplestiltskin whispered, aware of their company.

Her eyes watered, but a smile broke out of her anyways, “I’m so, so mad at you Rumplestiltskin. But I love you too.”

He didn’t smirk or say anything.

He smiled.

She wanted to see his smile grow as large as his heart, “So, can I kiss you here?”

His lips were on hers before she could finish the thought.

**The End.**


End file.
